


Sticks and Stones

by alphaphilia



Category: Alexander (historical)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-23
Updated: 2013-01-23
Packaged: 2017-11-26 14:47:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/651486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alphaphilia/pseuds/alphaphilia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>My king, do not think that my dedication to you and your cause has diminished. But, even if I die for it, my dignity will not bow to your pride.</em>
</p>
<p>Even friendship had its limits and Alexander’s words, “Without me, you are nothing”, had cut Hephaistion deep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sticks and Stones

Helios sat by the fire, his hands hovering above the crackling flames. Bitingly cold, the night was unforgiving especially to his fingertips. Yet unless requested, Helios had no desire to enter Hephaistion’s tent. He cupped his hands over his mouth and sighed, an opaque puff of white escaping his lips. Normally, the general permitted his pages to remain in the tent’s outer partition, and according to the older pages, occasionally – when troubled by unsolved problems – his bed. 

“Still that bad, eh?” Helios glanced upwards briefly, answering with resigned silence. With an easy smile, Kallias shrugged his shoulders and sat down with a grunt, gathering his fur coat about him. Within moments, Endymion joined them as well, a leg of venison and jug of wine in his hands. “I thought you were with Iason,” Kallias said, pushing a lock of golden hair behind his ear.

A shadow fell over Endymion’s dark eyes. He sliced a few pieces off the venison and passed it to Helios. “Have some, there are still a few hours until your shift ends,” Endymion said. Then, his expression souring, he explained, “When I got to the king’s tent, it was infested with Krateros’ pages. I doubt Krateros was summoned there to be praised, but you should have seen their smug faces!” He picked up a stick and jabbed at the fire grumpily. 

Patting Endymion on the shoulder, Kallias turned to Helios and grinned, “I should warn you. If our general tells you to throw something out, it is in your best interest to keep it aside and pretend that you did. Last time he had a disagreement with the king, he told Endymion to throw away a necklace.” 

“I spent the next two weeks tracking it down,” Endymion said gloomily, strands of dark hair falling over his eyes. Helios chuckled, watching as Endymion fed the blackened stick to the greedy flames. He wondered what Krateros’ pages had said that drove Endymion back to their camp. Despite the king and their commander’s friendship, the two camps were rarely within walking distance of each other, and Endymion was not one that easily surrendered the rare opportunities he could spend with his beloved.

But there was no doubt that Endymion had been obliged to avoid confrontation with Krateros’ pages. The scene was still vivid in Helios’ mind. He had been with his commander when this mess began. Hephaistion and Krateros were leaving the military council, the former with a content smirk, the latter with a disgruntled frown. Whatever the topic of the council’s discussion, the king had obviously chosen the recommendation by Hephaistion. 

Helios trailed his commander, the insults that Krateros was hurling at Hephaistion within earshot. At first, it was the usual teasing of being effeminate and sycophantic. Hephaistion did not twitch, and had only raised an eyebrow when accused of bedding Alexander. Helios glared at Krateros, his own anger barely concealed. What a joke! Alexander and Hephaistion may have been lovers when they were boys, but they were far too old to share a bed now! 

Krateros made his final attempt. _Without Alexander, you are nothing, only a bitch submitting to his every desire with an eager behind._

Hephaistion snapped. With legendary speed, he drew his sword and swung at Krateros. Krateros unsheathed his sword and within moments, the two men were swinging at each other, their faces twisted with hatred. A few soldiers behind Krateros drew their swords and Helios reached for his, ready to dive into the brawl. The circle suddenly parted and a golden-haired figure charged through. “Hephaistion! Krateros!” Alexander shouted as he ran towards them. The two men saw their king and jumped apart, sheathing their swords and dipping their heads. “Who started the fight?” he demanded, his knuckles white with fury.

Krateros looked at Hephaistion. “I did,” Hephaistion said, “but-”

“You fool! You madman!” Alexander roared, the finger pointed at Hephaistion trembling with anger, “You abuse your position as my friend! I have ordered that there is to be no fighting within the army. Is this how you support my policies? Do not ever forget that you are who you are because of me.” 

Hephaistion’s lips parted, ready to defend himself.

“Without me, you are nothing!” 

At those words, his lips tightened into a thin, hard line. 

“If this happens again, I will kill you both with my own hands.” Alexander turned, leaving Hephaistion and Krateros bowing in apology behind him. As soon as Alexander was out of sight, Hephaistion straightened up and walked stiffly towards his tent. From behind, Helios could not see Hephaistion’s expression. But when he turned to look at Krateros, the smug grin on the veteran’s face was unmistakable. 

Bored soldiers spread gossip faster than women. Before the arrival of the next dawn, the fallout between the king and his favourite had reached the whole camp. 

The sound of approaching footsteps interrupted his reverie. Helios looked up and saw a silhouette, the rising sun behind him. “Iason!” Endymion called out softly, his delighted eyes gazing gently upon his beloved. Iason’s olive eyes shifted to Endymion, returning the affection with the slightest smile, before he announced, “The general is summoned by the king.” Kallias and Endymion looked at Helios pointedly, their eyes gleaming with relief and pity. They did not envy his task of rousing Hephaistion. 

Knowing that there was no way to avoid it, Helios rose with a long sigh. Having only been Hephaistion’s page for a few months, he had not yet experienced the anger of his commander, though from Kallias and Endymion’ expressions, he knew he was not in an enviable position. He reached for the tent flap, but before he lifted it, it was drawn aside and Hephaistion stepped out. 

Instead of kohl, shadows traced his eyes, black orbs that burned with icy fury. Instead of fragrant Persian oil, the strong scent of unmixed wine hung about him, much like the chlamys that draped loosely off his shoulder. Without a word, he stalked off towards Alexander’s tent, followed closely by Iason. Hours later, when Hephaistion returned, the anger in his eyes had not been extinguished. “Prepare my horse,” Hephaistion said before entering the tent, not sparing a glance for his pages. 

Helios almost cried out after him, fearing that Hephaistion was deserting the army. Spotting his frown, Endymion chuckled at his confusion, explaining that Hephaistion had been sent to establish a provision line. Helios was about to ask him how he knew when Iason appeared and hugged his lover. Caressing Iason’s long golden curls, Endymion’s grin fell as he whispered his farewells into his beloved’s ear. Wishing to give them some privacy, Helios headed towards the back of the tent when he realised that Hephaistion had exited the tent, now dressed in armour. Endymion and Iason jumped apart, their cheeks flushed. 

Hephaistion made no comment and mounted his horse, motioning for Endymion to follow him. Casting one last look at Iason, Endymion rode off after his commander, joining the light cavalry unit that was parting the camp. 

“Another month,” Iason muttered sadly, his head hung low before he headed back towards Alexander’s tent.

* * *

When he saw who had barged into the tent, Helios’ scowl fell quickly to a grimace, the reproach on the tip of his tongue halted just in time. Alexander, clad in shimmering Persian silk, had charged in and glanced about before demanding where Hephaistion was. Helios bowed his head and told the truth: he did not know. Hephaistion and his unit were due back a week ago and no news had been heard from them. Evidently, Helios was not the only one worried. 

Suddenly the tent flap was lifted and Alexander turned in delight. “Heph- Ptolemy,” the smile faded, “what is it?”

“Reports have just been received about flooding in the river ahead. It may be delaying Hephaistion’s return,” Ptolemy said, eyeing Alexander cautiously.

“By Zeus! What a pathetic excuse to avoid me!” Turning to Helios, he added sharply, “As soon as he returns, you will inform me immediately.” Gently urged on by Ptolemy, Alexander exited the tent, grumbling under his breath.

His own worries unsettled by Alexander’s, Helios spent the rest of the evening plagued by his imagination, arranging and rearranging Hephaistion’s collection of wine goblets. When he was finally satisfied, his stomach was already complaining loudly. Putting down the cloth, he left the tent, dismayed that all daylight but its last remnants had been swallowed by the approaching night. 

The thundering of galloping horses approached from the left. Helios spun around and beamed when he saw the man at the front of the pack. “My lord!” Helios exclaimed joyfully, hurrying over to take the reins. Hephaistion rewarded him with a slight upturn of his cracked lips before he ducked into the tent. 

Hephaistion looked terrible. Grey dust speckled his dark curls and the beard that had grown from a month without shaving. His red-rimmed eyes looked as though Morpheus had not paid him a visit since he left camp, and his strides resembled one that was drunken with despondence. Remembering the king’s instruction, Helios set off towards Alexander’s tent. But the king had received the news already. Halfway across the camp, Helios ran into Alexander, who carried an urgent yet joyous expression as he rushed towards Hephaistion’s tent, his silken robe a billowing cloud of emerald and azure behind him. 

A copper bath and shaving blade in hand, Kallias was about to enter the tent when Alexander arrived with Helios panting behind him, having barely kept up with the king’s pace. “My king,” Kallias dipped his head, “the general is taking a bath.”

“I shall wait,” Alexander said without pause and entered the tent. Kallias shot Helios a weary glance before they stepped inside as well. Alexander had plopped himself on a cushioned chair, arms crossed at his chest obstinately. Before long, he was up on his feet, pacing and muttering under his breath. 

Helios gasped when Alexander suddenly pushed the curtain aside and strode into the inner partition. There was a loud splash. “Alexander!” Hephaistion exclaimed. Within moments, Kallias retreated from the room, barely containing his grin. 

“I strongly advise you against entering,” Kallias said, mystifying Helios with his glee. “I’m going to eat dinner. We won’t be summoned for a while yet.” Giving Helios a light pat on the shoulder, Kallias left the tent, humming a tune. Against his better judgement, Helios crept closer to the curtain that separated the outer and inner partitions of the tents. He peeked inside.

His jaws dropped in disbelief. Though Hephaistion appeared disgruntled – but surprisingly not alarmed – he was laying back in the bathtub; Alexander supported Hephaistion’s head with one hand, while the other wielded the blade that slowly and carefully shaved Hephaistion’s beard. If he had not seen this with his own eyes, Helios would never have believed that the king himself was performing such a menial task. 

When Hephaistion stepped out of the bath, Alexander dried and dressed his friend wordlessly with practiced efficiency. “Helios,” Hephaistion suddenly called out. Helios jumped. His heart belting against his ribcage, Helios stepped into the inner partition, his eyes fixed on the ground, too guilty to face his lord. “Bring me some food,” Hephaistion said and dismissed Helios, much to his relief. 

A roast chicken and a jug of wine in his arms, Helios took a deep breath before entering. Alexander glared at him with his lips parted, having swallowed the latter part of his sentence when Helios walked in. The king’s eyes surprised the young page – Helios was accustomed to seeing clear orbs overfilled with resolve, rather than pleading eyes moist with desperation. 

As soon as the curtain fell behind Helios, voices were raised once more. “My dear Hephaistion! Will you please forgive me, my love?” Alexander’s voice trembled as though on the verge of tears. 

“There is nothing to be forgiven, my king.”

Helios knew he was at risk of a heavy flogging if he were caught, but his curiosity was victorious against logic. He tiptoed behind the curtain, thankful for the thick Persian carpets beneath his feet. Shutting one eye, he fixed his other on Alexander and Hephaistion through the small gap. “My words were harsher than I had intended,” Alexander admitted, his eyes lowered.

“No, you were right,” Hephaistion replied, unmoved, “I am nothing without you.”

“I was wrong!” Alexander cried, “I am the one who is nothing without you, Hephaistion!”

Even Helios was praying for Hephaistion to accept the apology. By Zeus, the king never apologised to anyone, let alone admitted that he was wrong! But Hephaistion was no mere man – he held his ground, and his silence. 

After a long minute, Alexander spoke again, his voice barely above a trembling whisper, “Even if I conquer the world, it would be in vain if I cannot have your love.” Tears blurred Helios’ vision. He had heard many tales of the friendship between his king and his commander, but they were not sufficient to capture the emotions Helios now witnessed. 

“I will always love my king with unfaltering loyalty.”

“You know I do not mean that! Why are you so stubborn? I will-”

“What will you do?” Hephaistion roared, startling Helios. “Execute me? I do not fear what you can do, Alexander! You humiliated me before the soldiers and served to confirm Krateros’ insults! As a king, you are meant to be fair, and as my friend, you are meant to stand by me! You did neither!”

Helios has never seen such rage from Hephaistion. His commander had always bore his impressive physique with a calm and proud demeanour. But the fury that he now unleashed paralleled, if not exceeded, Alexander’s infamous temper. Even Alexander appeared to cower, his head hanging even lower than before. 

“My dear friend… my precious love… I am sorry.” A tear slid down Alexander’s cheek.

“Alexander, I have known your trickeries since we were boys,” Hephaistion said, wiping Alexander’s tear away though his lips remained tightly pressed in an unwavering frown. “My king, do not think that my dedication to you and your cause has diminished. But, even if I die for it, my dignity will not bow to your pride.”

“It was the same even when we were boys,” Alexander said bitterly with a trace of fond reminiscence. Then dropping to his knees, he clung to Hephaistion’s robes, “Hephaistion, my love, I was wrong. But do not leave me, for you are my only love.” He buried his face in the soft fabric, sobbing silently. 

Alexander’s speech appeared to have stirred distant memories within Hephaistion. His mask of ice cracked, and melted. Hephaistion fell to his knees as well and wrapped his arms around Alexander. When Alexander’s weeping ceased, Hephaistion held Alexander’s face gently in his hands and kissed him on the forehead. “My Alexander,” he sighed, his voice as gentle as a caress, true emotion now running through it, “my love for you is forever.”

Helios shifted uncomfortably. The scene before him was not the familiar one of the king and his subject; rather, it resembled the reconciliation of two love-struck boys of fifteen. Hephaistion helped Alexander to his feet. “Alexander, come now, it is already late.”

The desire that suddenly engulfed Alexander’s eyes alarmed Helios. “Then you should allow me to stay,” Alexander said, his face lit in a hopeful, boyish smile. Helios almost choked when Hephaistion nodded after a brief moment of hesitation. To think of the gossip! Especially if it were Hephaistion’s tent!

He watched in horror as Hephaistion led Alexander to his bed, the truth of all those rumours rudely forced upon him. Alexander and Hephaistion knelt on the bed facing each other, Alexander’s arms around Hephaistion’s neck while Hephaistion’s arms encircled Alexander’s waist, pulling their hips together. Hephaistion tilted his head and kissed Alexander, who was blushing like a schoolboy. “I’ve missed you,” Alexander smiled shyly. Hands on his shoulders, Hephaistion slowly slid Alexander’s robe off, revealing broad shoulders and a defined chest clawed with scars, new and old. 

Moving from the dip at the base of the neck, Hephaistion trailed his tongue up Alexander’s collarbone before sucking on his neck, leaving a clear trail of purple bruises. Alexander’s head cocked to the side, his eyes shut and his lips slightly parted. 

Running his hand aimlessly through dark brown curls, Alexander murmured Hephaistion’s name. Their gazes locked. With an enamoured smile, Alexander removed Hephaistion’s robes, revealing a prominent arousal. Even without speaking a word, Helios could understand the craving burning in Hephaistion’s eyes and its reflection in Alexander’s. 

Letting out a relaxed sigh, Alexander laid back and sank into cushions and fur. Hephaistion took a vial of oil from the bedside table and poured in into his palm until it overflowed. Then, with more urgency now, he spread the oil over his entire shaft before smearing a generous amount around Alexander’s entrance. With synchronisation that could only come with years of practice, Alexander spread his legs and lifted his hips to meet Hephaistion’s erection. 

When Hephaistion penetrated Alexander in a fluid motion, drawing out a sensual moan from his king, Helios bit on his fist and turned away. He had witnessed too much. As quietly as he could, he stole away from the curtain and left the tent hurriedly. 

Helios blushed when he met the curious glances of Kallias and Endymion, who were by the fire, both apparently boasting about their skills with a spear. When Helios remained silent, they exchanged a glance before bursting out in laughter. “My dear Helios!” Kallias said when he recovered sufficiently, “do not looked so shocked!”

“The… the rumours are true then!” Helios stammered. “What General Krateros said was true!”

“Well, it wasn’t _completely_ true,” Endymion grinned with a wink.

Kallias scoffed, “That old warhorse, he is too blinded by jealousy to see the general’s merits.” 

Still in shock, Helios did not reply though the words never left his mind. In the following months, he understood why Kallias so vehemently defended Hephaistion’s distinctions as a general. But when Krateros was sent back to Macedonia as its new regent, Helios had no in his mind that despite Hephaistion’s talent in command and logistics, his greatest merit of all was his undying devotion to Alexander. 

The moment of intimacy he had witnessed was a private confirmation that Hephaistion’s greatest title was not that of Chiliarch… but of _Philalexandros_.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. The clash between Hephaistion and Krateros is mentioned in Plutarch's Life of Alexander (XLVII). I was also inspired by Alexander and Hephaistion’s relationship as described by the more prominent Alexander historians, notably Peter Green and Robin Lane Fox. 
> 
> 2\. Alexander and Hephaistion’s pages (Helios, Endymion, Kallias and Iason) are of my own creation (unfortunately, there is little reference to them other than to the ones who conspired to assassinate Alexander).
> 
> 3\. Hephaistion only became Chiliarch later on (which seemed appropriate since it was a reflection) – more immediately after Krateros was sent back to Macedonia, Hephaistion was promoted to deputy supreme commander ( _Alexander of Macedon_ , Peter Green).
> 
> 4\. My slightly sadistic self loves it when Alexander and Hephaistion fight.


End file.
